I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin
(and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
Finally—finally—he feels the Fear begin to sink its hooks into her and he almost shudders with his pleasure. She has been difficult to get to this point. She has been difficult to to mold, his hands sore from the exertion of it, but she is beautiful now—his masterpiece beginning to take shape.
For his entire life, Bruise has fancied himself an artist. Like his father before him, he has enjoyed—no, loved—the way the Fear allows him to sculpt strangers and peers alike into creatures of his own making. He has appreciated the effort it takes, the way they are all like different material. Some, malleable but easy to disintegrate into nothingness. Others taking considerable more effort but the effects more long-lasting.
She though, she might be his finest creation to date.
He passes the shudder off as a tremor, blood beginning to well from the shallow cuts on his dusky coat. He pauses and turns toward her, trembling, his voice wavering with the barest hint of hope beginning to tint the edges of it. “Y-y-you will come with me?” He takes a step toward her, cautious, as if he has never done such a thing before, as if he is shocked by the idea that someone would want to spend time with him.
Another step, and then another, each one laced with nerves and slow. His eyes are still wide, the delicate skin near his nose drenched with sweat, but he continues moving until he makes up the distance between them. He reaches out to touch her jaw, the curve of her feminine neck. “I-I-I,” his voice breaks and falls into silence as he presses his forehead against her, his breathing ragged. He doesn’t tell her that he stands there imagining what she will look like when spilled across the ground. That he can practically feel her pulse and he wonders what it will feel like when it begins to stammer and pause and then stop.
No, instead, he takes deep breaths, his handsome face trying to steady itself.
When he pulls back, he is more composed, as if her presence calms him, and he finds her gaze.
“P-p-please don’t leave me,” a pause. “I-I-I need you.”
@[Lucrezia]